


Sole Beneficiary

by hutchabelle



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Ex Sex, Exes, F/M, Friends With Benefits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 03:57:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14417175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchabelle/pseuds/hutchabelle
Summary: Katniss needs comfort as she struggles with the aftermath of her parents’ divorce. Peeta always knows how to make her feel better.





	Sole Beneficiary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunflowerslyf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerslyf/gifts).



> Prompt 24: Ex with benefits [submitted by sunflowerslyf]

 

The door creaks as I open it just enough to slip inside Peeta’s house in the mid-morning light. I doubt he hears the noise since he’s likely only been asleep for a couple of hours. It’s taken a lot for him to adjust to his new schedule—working the night shift after helping his father open the family bakery for years. Now, he heads to his job hours after he used to go to bed. That’s okay with me, though, because it makes him even more cuddly when I slip under the sheets with him.

 

I close the door behind me and lock it before toeing off my shoes and padding down the hallway to his bedroom. The lights are out, and the blinds are closed. Enough natural light slips through that I can see him curled up under the blankets, his ashy blonde curls in a disheveled riot against his pillow and his full lips parted slightly as he breathes in and out in steady rhythm.

 

“Peeta?” I whisper as I cross the room. He doesn’t rouse, so I lift the comforter and climb in next to him.

 

He’s so warm, and I can’t help but press myself against him. He twitches at my touch, but it’s not until I sneak my hand under his t-shirt to run lightly over his abs that his eyes flutter open.

 

“Hey,” he mumbles, his voice groggy and his blue eyes hooded and hazy with sleep.

 

“Hey, yourself,” I tease softly and bury my face against his neck. When he inhales, I slide the tip of my tongue against the silky skin there.

 

“Katniss, you should stop,” he warns.

 

“I probably should,” I admit, “but I really don’t want to. And I don’t think you want me to either.”

 

My voice is husky as I bend my knee and rub my thigh against him. That’s all it takes for him to thicken against my leg, and I smile as he attempts to push me away half-heartedly.

 

“We can’t keep doing this,” he grouses, but he doesn’t mean it any more than I do. This is exactly what we should be doing.

 

With a tortured groan, he rolls over so I’m pinned beneath him, and he ducks his head to cover my mouth with his. My eyes close of their own volition. It’s so comforting, so familiar. He’s always been an amazing kisser.

 

His tongue rubs against mine, and heat sparks at the base of my spine. He’s still hardening as our bodies press together, so I disentangle my legs and hook them behind his knees. His pelvis settles into the wedge between my legs, and I choke back a muffled groan.

 

“Peeta,” I breathe as he presses down. I can feel his erection, increasingly insistent against the thin fabric of my leggings. When he wiggles slightly, he hits something that makes my eyes roll back in my head.

 

“You smell really good,” he observes lazily when he breaks our kiss. “Didn’t you go to your step class this morning?

 

“I did,” I answer, barely able to form words. “She took it easy on us.”

 

“That’s too bad.”

 

His hands work underneath my shirt and fondle my breasts over my sports bra. I curse myself silently for keeping it on. It flattens my already boyish chest to pancake level. I have never had those perky boobs I’ve envied on so many other girls.

 

“Why? Why too bad?” I ask. I don’t really care, but it’s heaven to hear his throaty voice as his body works magic.

 

“I like it when you’re hot.

 

He kisses my neck and adds, “And sweaty.

 

When I catch my breath, he finishes with, “And a little dirty.”

 

I sigh audibly, which is almost embarrassing—until it’s not. Somehow, Peeta’s removed my pants, and his long fingers are torturing me in the best possible way. When I mewl, he spreads me wider and presses into me. The rough cotton of his boxers is scratchy against my bare skin, and it’s not long before the material moistens as it absorbs my arousal.

 

I claw at his shirt, and he shrugs it off. His skin is gorgeous, lightly bronzed and rippling over toned muscles he maintains by lifting three times a week at the gym around the corner. Impatiently, I wrestle my top off, and he helps me remove my sports bra. I vow to burn it later, but that thought is quickly replaced by lustful ones as his torso presses to mine.

 

“This feels so good,” I hiss and almost laugh as Peeta shoves his boxers past his hips and kicks them off until they’re lost in the tangle of his sheets.

 

“Most amazing feeling in the world,” he agrees and lines himself up.

 

“Yeah.”

 

I’m nothing if not articulate when I’m in bed with a guy.

 

“You sure?” he prods. When I nod, he eases into me, and we both groan as he fills me, stretching me until I take him in up to the hilt. “So, so good.”

 

He starts to move, and I tuck my head into his neck and hold on. He’s gentle at first as he withdraws and enters, over and over, tip to base, stroking and tantalizing. He’s the best sex I’ve ever had. Every time. Even the bad experiences were better than with anyone else, and those were exceptionally rare. In Peeta, I’ve found my sexual soulmate.

 

“Peeta,” I chant. “Yeah. Yes, yes, yes.”

 

After a few minutes, he pauses and withdraws. When I shoot him a questioning look, he apologizes quickly.

 

“Too fast. I need to slow it down.”

 

I nod, and he rises above me. He settles on his knees and pulls my legs up so my feet rest on his shoulders. He kisses the inside of my left ankle where my tattoo winks at him and re-enters me.

 

“Oh, fuck,” I gasp at the angle he’s created. He knows how to drive me over the edge faster so he can find his own release once I’ve reached orgasm. If I wasn’t the beneficiary of his thoughtfulness, I might be irritated by it, but I’m lucky. Everything he’s doing is for me first.

 

He rocks into me and grins when I squeak. I’ve reached that point at which I can’t think, and he knows I’m well on my way to letting go. He bends my legs back toward my chest and pumps his hips so I’m lifted off the bed a little bit with every stroke.

 

Almost too willing to let him control everything, I reach behind me and grab his headboard. His eyes darken as my non-existent breasts thrust upward and the nipples pebble. His smooth pace quickens, and I pant my approval.

 

“You’re so sexy,” he murmurs. “So sexy, Kitty Kat. Purr for me.”

 

I do, the sound so far back in my throat it tickles. Soon, I’m unable to hold back high-pitched staccato squeals as stars burst behind my eyes.

 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I wail, and Peeta thrashes against me, his control slipping as I pulse around him.

 

“Keep coming,” he begs. “Don’t stop, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful.”

 

I twist and turn under him, wringing myself out on him, and he finally shouts and slumps into a heap on top of me. We lie together, panting and sweaty, as I revel in the peaceful bliss that spreads from my core out to my fingers and toes.

 

“Holy hell,” I mumble. “Holy hell, that was… Wow.”

 

“Shhh, don’t talk.”

 

I chuckle as his breath tickles the skin on my chest.

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don’t want to wake up from this dream,” he answers, and the spell is broken.

 

“Dammit, Peeta,” I snap and shove him off me. I wince as fluid seeps down my inner thigh. I always think I’m going to ask him to wear a condom when we do this, but I’m on the pill anyway. Besides, it’s kind of a dick move to ask my ex-boyfriend to wrap up every time I randomly steal into his house for an unannounced booty call.

 

“And I’m awake,” he grumbles and collapses onto his back. He fists the sheets in his hand and wipes his groin with it, seemingly eager to remove traces of me from him.

 

“Why?” I demand. “You do this every time, Peeta. Just once, can’t we just enjoy it for what it is?”

 

I’m scrambling to find my clothes and redress when he snorts and rises from the bed. He stands in front of me in all his muscled glory, and my mouth goes dry at the beauty. He’s a gorgeous specimen of manhood, and my hands twitch to touch the tattoo on his side. It matches mine since we got them together. Before…

 

“I’m pretty sure,” he drawls as he crosses to the bathroom and grabs a towel, “that you enjoyed every single second of that. And I do that every time because you’re the only one in this room who thinks we shouldn’t be together.”

 

“I’m the only one still in this room!” I yell as he shuts the door firmly behind him.

 

I can hear the shower when he flips it on, and I tell myself to leave. I should get up, finish dressing, and slip out the way I came before he emerges from his steam-filled bathroom with a towel slung low over his hips and his shoulders glistening with water droplets.

 

I should. Yes, that’s what I should do.

 

But I don’t. Because, my god, I want to see him naked again before I face the rest of my day.

 

The shower’s still running when my phone pings, and I groan. I know who it is before I look, and the last thing I want is to listen to anyone question my choices. I just won’t answer. No one actually talks on the phone anymore anyway.

 

I relax for a few seconds when it stops ringing, but then it starts again. Cursing under my breath, I swipe my finger across the screen and snap at the caller.

 

“What do you want, Gale?”

 

“Why aren’t you home yet? Please don’t tell me you’re over there again.” My best friend and roommate’s voice grates in my ears. When I’m silent, he groans.

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

 

I cringe at the sound of Johanna, Gale’s girlfriend, cursing in the background. And he wonders why I don’t head straight home after my early morning workouts. Why would anyone pass up a chance to bed down with a guy like Peeta when the other option is seeing my best friend sexing up his girlfriend in our kitchen? Breakfast has been my least favorite meal since I caught them having sex while she flipped pancakes. It was beyond disturbing how well she can cook and fuck at the same time.

 

“Gale, I don’t really have time to talk right now. He’s in the shower. He’ll be out in a minute.”

 

“You’re playing with fire, Catnip. You dumped him, remember?” he reminds me. “At some point, Mellark’s going to lose his patience, and you’re going to get hurt.”

 

“And until then, we’re going to have amazing sex. Byyyyyye!”

 

I disconnect the call and realize the shower’s off. It’s only a few more seconds before the bathroom door swings open, and a vision emerges from the steam-filled room.

 

“Unf,” I mumble in appreciation and watch as he crosses to his bureau and pulls a clean pair of boxer-briefs from the drawer. He slides them over his calves, and I lean back to admire the way the material stretches over his sculpted thighs. The towel slides from his hips, and I catch a glimpse of his flaccid dick that makes my mouth water. He wipes his shoulders dry and tosses the towel into a hamper before walking over to the bed.

 

“You staying or going?” he asks as he slips on his previously discarded t-shirt and climbs back into bed.

 

“Staying,” I answer. “If you’ll let me, that is.”

 

“Whatever’s fine. I’m going back to sleep.”

 

I slip under the covers again and settle into his arms. “That’s fine. Just let me use your hand.”

 

I can tell he rolls his eyes, even without seeing him. “Still horny?”

 

I nod silently, and he offers it to me, palm up. I guide it between my legs and suck in my breath when he traces the slit.

 

“Just once more,” I beg. I’m burning with hunger, and I know he won’t let me down.

 

“I love it when you’re vulnerable,” he murmurs in my ear, and tears prick my eyes. “If you’d come back to me, you wouldn’t have to beg. I’d give you whatever you want.”

 

“Peeta… Please…”

 

“I know you’re scared, Katniss. I know your dad walking out terrifies you.”

 

His fingers stroke my walls so slowly my insides sizzle. I squirm and writhe under him, but he’s sure of himself and doesn’t get distracted.

 

“I know you feel like your whole world is upside down right now. I know the divorce hurt you.” His voice is soothing, and it’s almost too much. “I’m not him. I won’t do that to you, honey. I promise I won’t.”

 

He’s so comforting next to me. I know him. I know everything about him, and he’s the best person I’ve ever encountered. But I thought that about my dad before he walked out. Before I found out he’d been having an affair for almost a decade. Before my mom fell apart, and I had to make a plan for how to deal with her breakdown from two hours away. Before my little sister called me bawling because she’s on suicide watch to keep our mom alive when she should be out having fun with her friends and getting ready for prom. Before everything I knew changed, and it colored my entire life.

 

Peeta curls his fingers inside me, and I sigh at how good it feels. His thumb circles my clit, and I can hear the wet sounds of him moving in and out of me. I tremble as his fingers thrusts, clutching desperately at his arm and cursing the comforter that holds in our body heat as my internal temperature builds.

 

“I-I th-thought you were going back to s-sleep,” I stutter, and Peeta has the nerve to laugh.

 

“I will,” he promises. “I’ll fall asleep to the sound of you screaming my name.”

 

“I won’t,” I insist.

 

“You will. You always do.”

 

My hips pulse to the rhythm of his movements, and I try not to think about how much I miss him. How much I long for our easy companionship and the fun we always had—have—together. It’s torture to stay apart, but I can’t get out of my own way. I don’t trust anyone right now. I have to be able to do that before I can expect another relationship to work.

 

“I’m so close,” I breathe. “So close.”

 

“I know, honey,” he croons and rubs slower, prolonging what we’re doing until I almost sob.

 

“You’re incredibly good at this.”

 

“It’s easy when you love someone,” he answers softly.

 

“Oh my god. I’m almost there,” I pant.

 

He continues to stroke, and eventually, I break without warning. Waves rolls through me; slow, pulsing surges that melt my bones. I squeeze my eyes closed so tightly colors flash behind them. Through it all, he whispers encouragement in my ear between gentle tugs and kisses on the shell.

 

I’m sure I’m almost done when I crest again. As it ripples through me, I scream his name.

 

“You always do,” he murmurs. “Always.”

 

I drift for a while, sated and boneless. When I finally turn to face him, he’s already asleep. His face is relaxed in an angelic expression, and his lips are curved into the hint of a smile. I lean over to kiss him, and he snuggles further into the pillow.

 

He’ll be out for hours, I know, so there’s no reason to stay. Except I can’t tear myself away from him. Not yet, anyway. Not when this is the only place where I feel even remotely like the person I used to be when I still knew who Katniss Everdeen was. When I was the daughter of a man who loved me, my mom, and my sister more than he enjoyed wetting his dick in a woman not his wife. Before everything I knew became a lie.

 

Heaving a gargantuan sigh, I close my eyes and let the darkness tug me down.

 

****

 

My phone wakes me a little later, and I wave at it in hope that will silence it. I have to be at work sooner than I’d like, but being here is too good to disturb.

 

Peeta’s snoring softly beside me. He’s on his side with his right arm and leg flopped over mine. He’s semi-hard, and I toy with the idea of waking him up with a blowjob for a few seconds before deciding against it. It’s clear he’s exhausted, and I did that the last time I snuck into his house. It ended with him missing out on crucial hours of sleep before his next shift. He almost called into work because he was having trouble thinking.

 

I press a kiss to his forehead and tuck a curl behind his ear before pulling away. He huffs at my absence but doesn’t wake, and I walk to the door before stopping to look back at him.

 

“Love you, Peeta Pie,” I whisper.

 

I’m back in my car in moments and headed to my place for a quick shower and change. With any luck, Johanna will be gone, and I can get ready in peace. Gale’s another matter altogether. At least I know he disapproves of my actions because he cares about me. His girlfriend has made it clear she’s not a huge fan of me or anything I do.

 

I groan when I pull into my driveway. Johanna’s shiny red Lexus is behind Gale’s pickup. I honk twice to give them warning. I have no desire to catch them in the act again. Ever, ever again.

 

“Well, well,” Johanna smirks as I enter the living room, “you look good for a walk of shame.”

 

“Oh, can it, Mason,” I snap and toss my keys on the coffee table. I’m halfway down the hall before Gale calls after me. Instead of stopping, I quicken my pace and shut myself safely in my room.

 

“C’mon, Catnip. I just want to talk.”

 

“I have to go to work,” I insist, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge anything is wrong.

 

He knocks on the door harder. “You are my best friend, and I’m not going to let you screw up your life. Or his. You both deserve better.”

 

I rip open the door and take in his lanky frame. We look so much alike some people have asked if we’re related, and we like to joke we’re play cousins. Gale’s face is riddled with concern, and I duck my head and motion him inside.

 

“I don’t really want to hear it,” I mutter and ruffle through my drawers to find something clean to wear.

 

He chuckles wryly. “That’s completely shocking,” he drawls. “Katniss Everdeen, independent spirit and hard as nails, doesn’t want help from anyone—even her oldest friend. Truly surprising.”

 

“Sarcasm becomes you.”

 

“You’d know,” he retorts, and I purse my lips before turning to him.

 

“It makes me happy,” I admit. “Being with him makes me happy.”

 

He studies me for a while in an attempt to discover how truthful I’m being. I wait, somewhat impatiently, for him to believe me.

 

“For how long? While you’re sleeping with him?” When I nod, he asks, “What about after? What about now?”

 

“It’s not his fault I’m not happy once I leave his house.”

 

“Then why not just be with him? Why the exes with benefits? Why not just get back together?”

 

I breathe against the pain he causes when he points out the obvious. It almost feels like it’ll cut me in two.

 

“I can’t,” I whisper. “I just can’t.”

 

“What are you going to do when he’s not willing to settle for your arbitrary visits? What about when he finds someone else? If you think you’re heartbroken now, what about when the man you love hurts you as much as your dad did?” His voice is gentle, kind, full of compassion, but it makes me want to throw things.

 

“Thank goodness I still have you,” I joke. “Got to get to work. Thanks for the chat. Better get back to Johanna now. She might want some pancakes.”

 

Gale snorts, unable to be anything other than strangely proud of himself for the flapjack escapade, as he calls it. I think it’s more of an exposé, but whatever.

 

“Just think about what I said, okay?” he calls to my back. “Peeta isn’t my favorite person, but that’s only because no one’s good enough for my cousin.”

 

“I’ll use every brain cell I have to consider it,” I holler as I close the door and step into the bathtub and turn on the water.

 

I should have joined Peeta earlier. It would have been much more fun to shower with him.

 

****

 

Two weeks pass before I visit him again, and Peeta’s remained remarkably distant during most of that time. Despite the end of our romantic relationship, my ex-boyfriend and I are still extremely close friends. In fact, I’d argue our relationship rivals my friendship with Gale as my closest confidante, and that’s saying something since Gale’s known me two-thirds of my life.

 

Peeta’s curled on his side when I sneak into his room, and he looks so young I can see the kind-spirited, exuberant young boy I viewed in family pictures sprinkled throughout his childhood home when he introduced me to his parents. That had been a disaster.

 

His mother hated me from the second she saw me, and I can’t say I had any kinder feelings toward her. She despised everything about me from my less than auspicious socio-economic status to the way her son couldn’t stop looking at me with adoration. She was almost cruel in her interactions with me during a tortured Thanksgiving meal. Peeta barely made it through dessert before he excused us and we left. We’d spent the rest of the holiday weekend in an out of the way bed and breakfast, scantily clad and in positions I still can’t begin to name. All I know is the cleaning crew better have scoured the wall of windows after we checked out to remove a lot of DNA we left behind.

 

I shake myself out of the reverie. That was five years ago when we were intensely happy, and I still believed in marital fidelity. Three years before I ended the relationship. I can’t believe these past two years haven’t helped me get past the brokenness I feel, and I grow increasingly nervous every day that Peeta will decide to move on before I’m ready to see him with someone else.

 

Instead of climbing between the sheets, I hover over him and cover his face with butterfly kisses until he stirs. He grins as I push the hair off his forehead and stroke the smooth surface. His skin is delightfully soft.

 

“It’s been a while,” he mumbles. “I thought maybe you were really done with me this time.”

 

I lean down to kiss him, and his lips massage mine so gently I’m almost moved to tears. There’s melancholy in him, and it scares me.

 

“Somehow, you keep drawing me back,” I murmur. “It’s almost like you have something I want or something.”

 

He chuckles, deep in his chest, and it vibrates through me. “Is it my cock?”

 

“Let me think,” I tease. “That might have something to do with it.”

 

“A little bit?”

 

“A lot bit,” I confirm, “but I like other things too.”

 

He’s pulled me down on top of him now, and my muscles relax as his body heat warms me. I swear he’s an addiction I can’t shake. I know running back to him isn’t healthy, but I need a fix much more often than I’d like.

 

“What other things tempt you, Kitty Kat? What makes you come back for more?”

 

“I like your biceps.”

 

“These old things?” he asks and lifts me off him a few inches. His arms bulge, and I lick my lips.

 

“And your hands,” I admit.

 

“I can’t imagine why,” he breathes as he trails his fingers up my sides to grope at the hem of my shirt. When the pads of his fingers find my skin, we both suck in a breath.

 

“And your mouth.”

 

He tugs my braid, and I find myself face to face with him, our lips millimeters apart as we stare at each other.

 

“You’re so stubborn, Katniss,” he whispers. “I’m so tired of being patient. It’s wearing on me.”

 

“Do you want to wear me?”

 

The question hangs between us, and I can see him hesitate, fighting with himself, before he gives in and flips me onto my back and then rolls me over.

 

“I swear someday I’m going to say no to you,” he growls and tugs my clothes off. “Someday I’m going to realize I’m a fool for letting you use me. Someday I’m going to find someone else.”

 

“But not today,” I pant, breathless at his intensity.

 

“No,” he agrees. “Not today.”

 

He hauls me up on my knees, and I brace myself on my elbows as Peeta positions himself behind me. It’s been forever since he took me from behind, and I’m tingling with anticipation. I love doggy-style—especially with him. It’s the one situation in which he lets himself lose control, and I can enjoy his brute strength and boundless passion.

 

“Today I’m going to show you what you’re missing,” he warns, and I bite my lip in preparation.

 

We both cry out when he enters me. He sets a punishing pace, and I work one arm free to grip the iron bar above his pillows. His bedframe is simple but sturdy, and it’s a steady anchor for our frantic coupling.

 

Neither of us talks much. The room fills with the slap of his skin against mine, guttural moans, high-pitched cries, and roars of approval. I can’t get enough of him. I want him harder and for hours. I don’t want this to end. I want him to need me, to be the oxygen he has to have to stay alive. I want to feel safe, protected, loved, and important.

 

Too soon, Peeta slows and shifts to deliberate strokes that make me scream. I can hardly stand how good it feels, and I lose it when he reaches around me to fondle my clit. I arch my back and snap, pulses racking my body, and his name on my lips. He shifts to thrust upward, and it’s not long until he spills into me.

 

“Hell,” he swears, “I can almost forgive you for disturbing my sleep. Almost.”

 

“I promise to do it again soon.”

 

“I’m positive you will,” he grouses and disentangles himself from me. “You should leave. I have an appointment today, and I need to get ready. My alarm’s set to go off in about five minutes. You saved me from waking up to a really annoying beeping.”

 

“Oh,” I reply, completely taken aback.

 

He’s never kicked me out after sex. Not once. Something’s different, and his earlier melancholy makes a little bit more sense now. He’s trying to forget me.

 

“Sorry,” he offers, but it’s clear he doesn’t mean it.

 

“No, it’s fine.”

 

But it’s not. It’s not fine at all. I’m not ready to lose him.

 

“It was good to see you, Katniss.”

 

I pause in pulling my shirt over my head and look at him. He’s rumpled, gorgeous, and insanely sexy. I should seek psychiatric help for voluntarily walking away from him.

 

“Same.” After an elongated pause, I finally add, “As always.”

 

“I’ll see you around.”

 

“Not if I see you first.”

 

My attempt at humor falls flat, and he stands and crosses to me. Still naked, he pulls me close and lifts my chin until there’s nowhere to look but him. He ducks his head and brushes his lips against mine, and I choke back a sob.

 

“Let me know when you’re ready again.”

 

He’s not talking about another visit to his house. He means us. He’s referring to our relationship.

 

I nod and back away. It takes everything I am to tear my eyes away from his body and kind gaze and leave.

 

“You’re a fool, Katniss Everdeen,” I tell myself as I start my car and back down his driveway.

 

And I am, but I know it’s the right thing to do. Nothing good will come of trying to pretend I’m ready when I’m not.


End file.
